


become anything to please him

by gryphonfeather



Series: to please... [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry Potter, Clothed Male Naked Male, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Gratuitously Hot Voldemort, Hands, Harry's definitely dropped into something, Hypnotism, I checked and there isn't a tag for potion-induced subdrop sadly, Kinda?, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Master/Pet, Maybe - Freeform, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Names, Possessive Voldemort (Harry Potter), Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Sexual Coercion, Somnophilia, Soulmates, Subdrop, Top Voldemort (Harry Potter), like honestly many descriptions of hands and touching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23974606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryphonfeather/pseuds/gryphonfeather
Summary: One potion promises to solve all of Voldemort's problems. At least, all the problems that involve Harry Potter.With the application of gentle, pervasive emotional manipulation and a ridiculous amount of pet names, this is the process of Voldemort seducing Harry Potter into becoming his.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: to please... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687948
Comments: 70
Kudos: 787





	1. initial considerations

**Author's Note:**

> a slow-moving porn-with-a-little-bit-of-plot prequel to "please me with your everything." help from saeva!  
>   
> the playlist for this fic, with a song for each chapter, can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6wHRqkLDMG5f1aDJmwHjJo). each chapter also contains a spotify link to its respective song, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: ["one way or another" - until the ribbon breaks](https://open.spotify.com/track/0NJM6ZBiDoWSiYQAUaGRsg)

This solution was so... elegant. Lord Voldemort swirled a colorless potion around in its clear vial. Not that he would call his plan simple, for obtaining the ingredients and combining them was no small feat in itself. Neither was the logistics of locating and testing a method of controlling a house-elf bound to the target in question. Nevertheless, with the vast resources of a true Dark Lord and with the unquestioning loyalty of Bellatrix Lestrange (before she was Obliviated, anyway), he was positioned perfectly to deal a precise blow. After all, Bellatrix was still technically a Black, and a house-elf of her family had to at least arrive when summoned. It hadn’t stood a chance.

He gazed at the vial a little longer before setting it down and leaning back at his desk. The Prophecy had indeed been a thorn in his side for too long, and he had to address the problem Harry Potter posed to his reign and continued life. The wording of the Prophecy, however, upon further reflection, was just so delightfully vague. “The one with the power to vanquish,” indeed. That clarified that there was only the one, and if Voldemort were to, simply, neutralize that power?

Just as a thought.

If he were to, say, ensure that the prophesied vanquisher would nevermore _want_ to vanquish?

Voldemort grinned. Then his continued rule would be guaranteed. 

And this method had such delightful benefits to it, as well. He stood up from his desk and walked around it, looking out his window onto the manor lawn and running one hand through his wavy chestnut hair. He let himself have one minute to muse on future… avenues of subjugation, then turned back towards the filled notebook at the corner of the desk, flipped it open to the middle, and added several notes. 

The man set the notebook down, straightened out his robes, and started out the door. It was time to set his plans into motion.

-X-

Harry pushed open the door of Grimmauld Place with his shoulder, his arms weighed down with grocery bags. He shook his wet hair out of his face and looked wryly down at where he was dripping an increasingly large puddle on the entrance rug. Kreacher came bustling in with his head down, muttering about, “Young Master says he’s a wizard, he says - then why walks, in the rain, to the…” The wrinkly house elf shuddered, his long ears flopping. “The Muggle market!” Harry tried to suppress his grin as he set down the plastic bags and shrugged off his windbreaker, placing it onto one of the hooks at the entrance. Kreacher continued, putting his hands on his hips like he was going to begin a lecture, “And what’s worse of all the worses is that Young Master-who-says-he’s-a-wizard remembered he’s a wizard long enoughs to spell the groceries from getting wet and didn’t remembers to spell _himselfs!_ ” 

Harry had to deliberately put on a straight face as he turned to the irate elf, who had begun snapping his fingers to dry up all the water from the entrance. Pretty soon, Harry’s hair was the last thing to be dried, but Kreacher took one look at the plastered-down mess, looked into Harry’s eyes, and turned around back towards the Kitchen. Harry snorted. _I probably deserved that._ Picking up the bags from the floor, he trotted after Kreacher to put down his refreshed supply of Kinder Buenos and other treats. The Wizarding World had many things, but they couldn’t quite replicate Kinder Buenos yet, so Harry had to satisfy his cravings by traversing into the Muggle world.

After setting the bags down onto the large kitchen island, he rustled through their contents and put everything away into various cabinets in short order. “Kreacher - a cup of pumpkin juice, please,” he called out, and when a cold glass popped into place in front of him, he drank it absentmindedly, tapping his fingers. It was only… “Tempus,” 2:15 in the afternoon, and his main outing for the day had been completed. He glanced over at the charmed cool-box, where he had pinned his ever-growing to do list. He had found that room on the ground floor the other day that looked to be solely inhabited by cauldrons and spiderwebs, and he didn’t trust anything that had been left in a Black Family cauldron for decades. Harry set down his wand to rub at his temples - he could feel a headache coming on - and then, suddenly, he could feel Kreacher popping him away into some tall entrance hall. He stumbled, then tried to take up a defensive position sans wand, but he could sense something was off. 

Suddenly, the most peculiar feeling swirled up inside him - an affection, a desire, for a being whose face he couldn’t quite place. Where… He stood up and turned halfway around, expecting somehow to see something in the cool, vaulted room that would give him a sense of what was going on. The room, however gorgeous its leaded windows were, provided no immediate answers. Harry brought one hand to his face, running it through his hair as he tried to clear his head. Something wasn’t right, where had this come from? He had never felt this way before - yet he knew this person was perfect for him like he knew the sun rose in the east. Harry narrowed his eyes, thinking for a moment. _They must have given me some way to find them. I’m sure… Wait. Why do I want to find them? They got me into this mess! At least I can try to confront them._ He cast around in one direction, then the other, getting a little frantic. Why wasn’t he with them right now? He stalked down a wide hallway, stopped to see if the first door would open, and jumped about a foot in the air when Kreacher popped in front of him. At this point, his thoughts had gone a little fuzzy and narrowed in on this unknown person and how much he liked _loved them, wait._ He didn’t question why Kreacher was there when he hadn’t been before, Harry just _knew_ that the house elf could get him to where he needed to be. Kreacher pointed straight down the long hallway towards the tall archway at the end, and Harry continued in that direction without a word.


	2. first impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: ["monsters (acoustic)" - ruelle](https://open.spotify.com/track/6uGMvvgKIQx1zaNF4g7HG9)

The question of soulmates had always been an interesting intellectual enterprise for Voldemort, and had been even before he’d called himself by that name. Is there really one person that is destined for you, so that you complete each other? Does magic draw you together? Are you stronger as a couple? Can one person be the soulmate of another if the reverse isn’t true? Voldemort had had access when he was younger to the Black Family journals, which were invaluable insights in the area because they contained some of the only experimental research into soulmate bonds. There were certain characteristics that most soulmates had in common - many soul-bonded couples matched each other in magical alignment, blood status, and of course in pure terms of magical power. Of course, the Black Family research had not all been done for purely objective purposes. If, for example, someone were to come across a fellow magical user who they felt was highly compatible with themselves, it might be handy to have a spell or a potion on hand to check for a potential soulmate bond. If said spell or potion just happened to have a side effect of stimulating said bond and thus inducing affection and attachment, that was simply... a happy coincidence.

Voldemort raised his head as he heard the faint crack of his guest arriving down the hallway at the front of the house, then settled back down, facing away from the entrance to the parlor. It had been a while since Voldemort had seen the Potter heir face to face, admittedly, but he did remember deliciously large magical reserves compared to the weak “average” wizards surrounding them, so he wasn’t worried too much about the potion not taking hold. (There were plans for all contingencies, in any case.) He did hope that the young man had turned out to have a decent body at least - he played Quidditch, didn’t he? Voldemort thought that had been mentioned by Lucius once or twice. That would make this a more pleasant experience, but in general it was the principle of the thing that Voldemort was excited about. He snorted at his own humor - excited indeed.

Footsteps approached, changing in tone slightly as they moved from tile onto the hardwood floor and then pausing. Voldemort waited for a breath, then rose and turned in a single economical motion that he had practiced and enjoyed because of how dramatic it ended up being. As he planted his feet, his eyes fell upon his prize, who was standing motionless, framed in the archway. And looking on him, Voldemort couldn’t help but smile, because this? This was more than he could have dreamed. The waifish boy had grown into a lean young man with bronze skin, the muscles of a runner, and a defined jawline that Voldemort just wanted to _bite_. Considering the shining green eyes and flush to the tanned skin, Harry could indeed be described as delectable. 

_This was going to be so much fun_.

-X-

Following Kreacher’s directions, Harry shook his head a little to try and clear it as he continued down the long hallway. _Focus, Harry. What do you know about your situation?_

  * _I am in someone else’s house. Kreacher took me here._


  * _There’s someone nearby ~~who I lo~~ who I feel great affection for._


  * _I want to find this person._



He repeated these points in his head, but ended up focusing on the second point and smiling. _I love them and I’m going to see them soon._ The background of Harry’s mind was growing quieter, including the part of him that was suspicious of this entire situation, because honestly, he could feel more complete the closer he got to this person. There was something about them that he needed, right now, and he was going to figure it out. So he walked faster and found himself breathing a little hard as he came to a halt facing an imposing living room. He glanced at the fireplace taking up a wall and then zeroed in on the back of a head sitting on a couch facing away from him. It looked like a male head, but he couldn’t tell for sure.

He was suddenly paralyzed by doubt. _What do I say? Will he even understand why I’m here? Will he like me?_ Harry didn’t know if he could stand it if this man rejected him outright. It was a good thing the man was moving and turning around, because Harry was frozen in place… 

Oh.

God.

He was _gorgeous._

Harry’s heart felt like it was about to combust with how much love he felt for this man. He had known he had loved him before he had seen him, and now that Harry knew how tall and broad-shouldered and poised and composed he was… Harry had never seen cheekbones or jawline as sharp as this man’s. His hair was wavy and chestnut brown, falling a little into one warmly smiling eye, and _his eyes were red? That’s so unique! There’s something wrong about that but I don’t know what…_ His vague concerns were washed away in another wave of affection for the man.

Drawn irresistibly forwards, Harry took a step, reaching out a little, before his insecurities caught up with him. _I… don’t even know if he wants me to be here, don’t even know if he wants me at all._

-X-

Voldemort was attracted to the young man to an extent that honestly surprised him. He knew when Harry first caught sight of him, because those soft pink lips parted slightly in a gasp as the eyes widened almost impossibly behind horrible thick glasses. _Those must go, and soon_ , he thought idly as he strode to the boy, who took one step towards him and then paused as if uncertain of his welcome. When Voldemort greeted him with a simple, “Hello,” Harry actually shivered, and wasn’t that a pleasant thing to note? They would have so much fun together. 

He rested his hands on either side of the young man’s face to feel the blush creeping up from his neck, and also to see how deeply affected Harry would be by the potion - when he stuttered back a greeting but did nothing with his hands beyond twitching a little, Voldemort’s smile grew a little wider. 

He then ducked his head closer to the boy’s and whispered, “Welcome to my home, dear one.”


	3. falling for him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: ["bad things" - black rebel motorcycle club](https://open.spotify.com/track/2Av7HqzIS2tEMC0EbBvNZ6)

Harry found himself frantically cataloguing as much about the man as he could. _He has long fingers, graceful fingers, and he walks with his back straight like nothing can touch him, and his lips are pulling up in a smile… Wait, he’s smiling?? That’s a good thing, right?_ Harry straightened up, himself, as the man drew nearer, and felt himself tentatively smiling as well. This was just the happiest day of his life, as long as the man was happy with Harry. 

He felt like his whole body was tuned to the man who halted in front of him, and when a “Hello,” dropped from that sensual mouth in a smooth, low voice, a shiver traveled from the small of Harry’s back up his spine to his scalp and temples. _That… couldn’t be normal, right?_ But the man took one more step to within arms-length and he was a whole head taller than Harry at least and the hair on the back of Harry’s neck was still standing on end and hands were reaching up to Harry’s face and he could barely put enough thought together to lock his knees. 

He took one more shallow breath in,

before letting it out in an inaudible sigh as fingers settled along his jawbone beneath his ears, and two thumbs swiped lightly along his cheekbones. 

Something in Harry’s head was screaming continually in a high-pitched tone, and another part of his brain was squealing happily and doing a jig, and his higher thought processes were just not responding and that was perfectly fine _the man was touching him._

From this close, the man’s long fingers on his face, Harry could tell that his eyes were not just red, they were blood red. An important distinction, he noted. _Now that I’m here, I can stare into these eyes all day_. 

As he stared, however, Harry observed one perfectly sculpted eyebrow rise and realized quite suddenly that the man had spoken to him and he hadn’t responded! “Um, h-hi,” He cleared his throat. “I mean, hi!” Harry knew his voice was absolutely higher than normal, but he was mostly hoping that the man wouldn’t hate him forever for his lack of courtesy. It turned out that he needn’t have worried, however, because he was rewarded with a fonder smile and another pass of cool thumbs along his heated cheeks.

The man spoke again, and welcomed Harry, but he was left dazed at the… pet name he had called Harry? Had he actually heard that correctly?

_Dear one!_

When the hands slid away from his face, Harry almost whimpered, but bit it down. The man ( _do I know him? How don’t I know his name? What is happeni-_ ) took two steps backward, smiled again, and asked him to “Turn around for me, Harry my love - I want to see all of you.” Harry blushed again (his face was hot as fire at this point), lifted his chin, and spun slowly on the spot. 

As he faced the man again, he blurted out, “I love you.” 

_Stupid, stupid Harry! It’s far too soon to say that out loud. He probably doesn’t want to know that, he’s just been polite so far_. Harry buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed by his feelings. 

-X-

Unbeknownst to the boy, Voldemort’s kind smile twisted into a wicked smirk. 

The boy was a cute, blushing, emotional mess, standing defenseless in the personal home of his worst enemy. _Ensnared in my web._

He took one step closer and reached for Harry’s hand. 

_Let’s wrap you up one more time, shall we?_

-X-

Startled out of his self-recrimination by a hand taking his own, Harry stumbled a bit as they moved toward a long, green couch. When they had sat down next to each other, still holding hands between them, Harry stared at his lap and bit his lip to keep from saying any more of the swirling thoughts within his head out loud. _I love you I love you you’re so handsome I’d do anything for you don’t get a hard-on for the man he doesn’t want you that way I want him to want me though I love him I love you_ … However, the man’s free hand came up beneath his chin, turning it so their eyes met once more. “You’re such a sweet thing, Harry,” he remarked gently in his deep voice. “You mean that? You really love me?” 

Harry was startled out of his misery. “O-of, of course I love you! With my heart and soul.” His heart was beating fast as he searched the man’s kind, sharp eyes. “You believe me, don’t you? I’m, I mean,” One finger was placed over his lips to silence his rambling.

“I believe you, darling.” Harry breathed again. The fingertip traced around his mouth, almost idly, as the man tilted his head and continued. “I believe you when you say you love me, I think you definitely think you love me…” Harry opened his mouth to correct him. _I don’t just think I love you, I know it! I love you more than_ But the finger stopped him again, along with a reproachful look, and Harry settled down, a little ashamed. “You think you love me.” The man repeated, "But I’m going to need a little more proof from you, Darling."

"Anything," Harry assured him, breathless.

The man (Harry had to come up with a better name for him, but at this point it was awkward to ask him his name? You know, since Harry already loved him?) hummed absently, running the fingers of his left hand through the wild, dark strands of Harry's hair and intently tracking the path of his hand with his eyes. His fingertips traced lightly over the scalp below as if mapping it, then repeated the motion, the base of his warm palm ghosting over Harry's ear. Pulling a flyaway lock from above Harry's scar, the man twisted it around his finger, watching it bounce back into place. He had to be able to feel Harry trembling in place, trying his best to sit still, but the older man simply mused, "Your hair is so silky."

Harry held his breath... The man eventually withdrew his left hand from Harry's hair, but he slowly traced the knuckle of his right hand along Harry's jaw towards his chin. Harry tilted his head under the gentle pressure, closing his eyes and feeling sparks from the simple contact. When the touch disappeared, it drew with it a small pleading noise from the back of Harry’s throat, and Harry opened his eyes to see a small pleased smile.


	4. unmooring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: ["addicted to love" - florence and the machine](https://open.spotify.com/track/3fNuoybebaufvtFBo5TDWO)

Voldemort was sitting on a couch with the boy, fully clothed, merely touching Harry’s face, and the young man was shivering like they had already had sex. He looked into those wide, desperate green eyes and had to physically hold himself back from the smirk that wanted to break out. _Delicious._ He forced himself to catalogue other signs as he ran one hand through the soft messy hair - Harry's face was flushed, all the way down his neck (and didn't Voldemort want to know how far that went), and the boy was biting his lip to stay quiet. Voldemort drew out the moment by playing with a strand of hair, contemplating his current strategy. He was deliberately stringing out the initial contact, while the potion took full effect - the goal was to leave Harry a little confused and fully desperate, and if Harry started actively resisting the potion, Voldemort could take actions from rationalizing to ramping up the intimacy to spells enhancing the potion’s effects. He didn’t think any of those approaches would be necessary, though, and to see if his theory was correct, he ran one pale knuckle under the boy's chin. Harry folded so sweetly, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch, and as Voldemort pulled away, the softest noise came from the back of his throat.

A shiver went down Voldemort’s back, and he eagerly sat forward in his seat. _Let's try this next_. He kept his hand in front of the younger man's face and waited for him to recover. "Harry dear, would you like to kiss my fingertips?" As he’d expected, Harry’s face lit up at the task, at being given something to do, some way to prove himself. The potion made him affectionate and biddable, eager to prove his love to his soulmate, but… still shy, apparently. Voldemort hadn’t been sure whether the boy would have jumped at the chance and started slavishly kissing his hands all over. Instead, one featherlight kiss was placed on the tip of his pointer finger, the young man glancing upwards under his lashes as if to check if that was all right, if he could keep going. _So sweet._ Voldemort nodded, and he swore he could see Harry somehow relax and perk up at the same time. Harry deposited another kiss to his pointer finger, then moved to place another on the tip of his middle finger. The boy’s lips were soft, Voldemort’s breathing had picked up, and this whole thing was a delicious exercise in patience for both of them as far as Voldemort was concerned. When Harry had kissed his thumb and sat back slightly, Voldemort crooned reinforcement at him, saying, “Good boy,” and watched carefully for his response.

-X-

Harry felt like he was floating, vibrating, blurring away at the edges.

Kissing the man’s fingertips was something he could do _finally_ and he was careful, so careful to press his lips lightly to the end of each elegant finger. The man’s blood-red gaze on him was intent and hot and all-encompassing - Harry wanted to squirm, wanted to break eye contact, but he was frozen in place like a bird in front of a snake. 

His brows furrowed for a second - _why does the thought of a snake fit well with this man, and why are my shoulders tensing up at the association_ \- before he kissed the man’s thumb and lost his train of thought at the feeling of calloused skin under his lips.

Harry hoped, wished to have pleased the man, and tried to convey that with a plaintive expression. A wave of ecstasy rushed over him when he was praised. “Good boy,” the man said, and Harry almost teared up from happiness. _I’m trying so hard to be good for you!_ He felt unmoored and awash with feelings, like the man’s eyes were the only thing anchoring him to earth. Harry took a deep breath and meant to say out loud the thoughts tumbling around in his brain, but his breath shuddered out through his lips. Words seemed slippery and out of reach - licking his lips, Harry tried again to speak, but ended up huffing out a little sobbing breath. He looked down at his hands curled in his lap for a second, panting, then craned his neck towards his tall, kind benefactor and _whined._ For what, he didn’t know, but he needed something from the man, he needed it with every particle of his being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little update for y'all today! I promise I am still writing this lol.  
> Edit: I have a [tumblr](https://gryphonfeather.tumblr.com/) now! Check there for fic updates and other fun stuff.


	5. take me away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: ["never gonna change" - broods](https://open.spotify.com/track/0ZyNhzQtb8sDCOaHt46I0o)

Voldemort could _feel_ his pupils dilating at the pleading whine from the boy in front of him. 

Harry was wrecked - lips parted, face red, hair mussed, body straining towards Voldemort, words literally beyond his reach. The boy was incoherent, but his expressive bright green eyes brimming with tears spoke to how much he wanted Voldemort’s touch and approval.

Voldemort would be happy to provide him with both.

“Oh, darling,” he crooned, and the boy shuddered like he’d been struck. 

Suddenly, Voldemort needed him closer, now. “Come here…” He reached out to Harry, who was beyond the point of taking initiative for himself, and easily lifted him, settling him on his lap, smoothing down his arms and arranging Harry’s knees around his own hips. Voldemort slid his hands up under Harry’s t-shirt to rest on the boy’s lower back, then had a better thought and wandlessly vanished all of Harry’s clothes except for his boxers.

Now wasn’t this a pleasant sight - a lap full of warm, eager young man under his complete control. Harry was mostly hard by this point, precum staining the front of his grey pants. Voldemort smiled at the results of his own genius, then sprung into action.

Keeping his arms around the boy’s back, supporting him, Voldemort deployed his most seductive, low tone. “Darling. Sweetheart. _Baby._ ” Harry’s eyes were completely black at this point, and Voldemort took one hand up to remove Harry’s glasses to be able to see them better. The fact that Harry blinked owlishly and probably couldn’t see anything beyond Voldemort’s face was just a pleasant bonus. _That’s it, focus only on me_. The boy’s muscles were so loose that he would probably sway and fall off of the couch if Voldemort weren’t holding him in place. 

“You love me, don’t you?” A spark of something flashed behind Harry’s eyes, and he nodded fervently. “And you want me, baby?” The younger bit his lip, shyly, and nodded again, the twitch of his cock betraying him. “Good boy, of course you do.” Voldemort ran his hand through Harry’s soft, wild hair in reward - Harry closed his eyes, tilted his head into the hand, and hummed. _If he could purr, he would be right now_. Keeping his hand at the nape of Harry’s neck, Voldemort’s pulse picked up as he continued. “Sweet thing, you want to make me happy, right?” Harry’s eyes snapped open, focusing on Voldemort’s face. Discovering his head was held in place, the boy keened softly in response, shifting his hips a little. “Then you’re going to keep doing what I say.” Voldemort leaned even closer to Harry in emphasis, the deep rumble of his voice almost a whisper. “You’re doing so well, pet, you just need to keep obeying me, can you do that for me?” 

Harry’s eyes were wide and liquid, and he seemed to be waiting for Voldemort to free his head. When that wasn’t forthcoming, he did not try to nod his head within his restraints ( _such_ a good boy) but instead made quick, frantic “mhmm, mhm” sounds in his throat, his hands twitching a bit at his sides.

“Now, Harry.” Voldemort used his name deliberately, to draw him up a little. “Use your words for me. Are you going to obey me to make me happy?” 

Emotions crossed Harry’s open face in waves - pleading, puzzlement, realization, determination. The sounds could be heard making their way from Harry’s throat to his lips as he visibly made the effort, slurring out - “Yessssyesyesyes…”

Voldemort shushed him. “I’m so glad, Harry. You want to do what I say?”

Harry perked up. “Yes!” His words were becoming clearer.

“Can you say that back for me, Harry? I will obey you?” An unholy light grew in Voldemort’s eyes.

The boy’s brow furrowed a little, but he enunciated, “I will, obey. You. I will obey you!” 

“And what a good darling you are.” Voldemort’s hand lowered from Harry’s neck to trace over the bumps of the boy’s spine before following the shiver back up and into his hair again. The young man was so responsive, hands coming up to clutch at his forearm. 

“Can you let go for me?” Hands fell to his sides instantly. “That’s a boy. Now,” and a wicked grin crossed Voldemort’s face, “Kiss my finger again, sweet thing. Suck it into your mouth for me, I want to feel your tongue - there you go.” The young man’s lips closed around the first knuckle of Voldemort’s pointer finger immediately, and a shy tongue circled around it. The warm cavern of Harry’s mouth felt even better than he had expected, and Voldemort hardened further in anticipation.

Harry Potter was completely enthralled - half-naked on the lap of the man who had tried to kill him, sucking on the finger of the Dark Lord while making cute humming noises, entirely unaware of the identity of his new soulmate.

 _What fun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could technically end the fic here - this is a solid stopping point - or I could keep going into the really smutty stuff.  
> What do you all think? Please comment with your preference!!


	6. going down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @everyone who read, kudosed, and especially commented last chapter - I love you with all of my heart and you are the reason I write. Have this extra-long chapter with actual sex in it!! Hope you enjoy <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: ["hostage" - billie eilish](https://open.spotify.com/track/1WsEgieHsWWndAzLkmV105?si=Bp_m8mOMREGCA7lErCMZvQ)

Voldemort let Harry lick around the tip of his finger for a minute or so, let him get comfortable with it, absorbed the unconscious hums the boy made. When the older slid his hand supporting Harry’s back down to one arsecheek and _squeezed_ , he was therefore able to catalogue the resulting sound (one that came accompanied by the half-lidded eyes flying open) as a significant change - more of a squeak. It was… kind of cute.

Lord Voldemort took advantage of the boy’s surprise and twisted his finger further into the mouth it was occupying. Riding out the instinctive buck of the chin, he used his thumb and third finger to take hold of the jaw and keep it still, admiring again for a second the contrast between his pale skin and Harry’s natural golden tan. He squeezed the firm butt of the boy in his lap again because he could, smiling as he watched a jolt travel up the lithe body. 

Harry was currently moving the length of his tongue back and forth along the finger in his mouth, but Voldemort had more interesting plans. He rubbed the side of his finger against the hard palate on the roof of the mouth, hooked it back to feel against the back of his teeth, scraped his fingernail slowly over the tongue - mapping the inside of that sweet mouth. He then thrust his finger towards the throat, seeing if… there was the gag reflex. _We’ll work on that._

Zoning back out a little, Voldemort took note of the apprehensiveness in Harry’s gaze, alongside a large amount of very poorly-placed trust. Given, manufacturing said trust had been the entire point of his evil plan, but it was nice to see the fruits of his labor. 

“Easy there, pretty thing. I’ve got you,” he crooned as he smoothed his left hand back up to rest in the small of the boy’s spine. He then eased his finger out past the boy’s lips and, reshifting his grip, onto the warm cheek, watching the resultant trail of glistening saliva avidly. 

The temptation to kiss his trapped bird rose too high to ignore. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over Harry’s once, twice, then pulled back and smiled at the young man’s surprise. “Let’s see if you taste as sweet as you look,” Voldemort murmured, before crushing the slim hips to his own and diving in with lips and teeth and tongue and _taking_. He completely overwhelmed the young man in his grip, not giving him any chance to catch up to the kiss, using his hold on Harry’s chin to tilt his head this way so their noses wouldn’t bump, that way for a deeper angle for his tongue. He drew moans and gasps and whimpers up from the boy’s throat, savoring each one. He felt several sparks at the edges of his magic during the kiss, signaling the development of the bond, and if he concentrated he could get a sense of how Harry was feeling, but that was easily blocked by his Occlumency.

When Voldemort drew back, he was well pleased with the effect he had had on his boy, who looked increasingly off-balance and lost in the pleasure he was receiving. He set the boy backwards a bit on his lap, creating a little space between them - when Harry whined at the distance, scrabbling his hands a bit at the front of Voldemort’s robes where they had been clenched, the older man let a sinister grin cross his face for an instant. Only an instant, before wiping it away and soothing the boy with a thumb on his cheek. He glanced downwards and saw that the front of the boy’s underwear was completely soaked - _we can’t have that, now can we_ \- and vanished them with a thought, leaving Harry completely naked, his average-sized cock bright red and bobbing up towards his stomach. Voldemort enjoyed the visual contrast between the boy and his own fully-clothed self immensely.

He held onto the boy’s hips firmly, then gentled his voice down and asked, “Harry, I’ve got a new task for you, something I want you to learn. Can you do that for me?” Harry stopped his squirming, making eye contact and nodding frantically. “Good. First, I want you to lace your hands together on top of your head,” he waited a moment for this to be carried out, “then slide them back to your neck. Keep your elbows out, that’s a boy. This is a good look on you.” It really was - Voldemort considered surreptitiously casting an immobilization spell on Harry’s arms to stay that way, but rejected the thought. It would be more pleasant to watch Harry work to keep the position because Voldemort wanted him to.

“Now,” he held out his right hand with two fingers out. “I want you to suck on these for me, like you’re sucking on my cock.” Harry’s eyes, already dark, blew impossibly wide with a mix of desire and fear. “Open your mouth for me, sweetheart, that’s right. Pull your lips over your teeth and suck my fingers down.” The boy’s cheeks hollowed around his fingers, and hips rocked once, twice on Voldemort’s thighs, seeking out friction. “So good. Can you rub the tip of your tongue along the bottom? Do that again, yeah - now I’m going to go deeper, baby, take a deep breath through your nose and swallow for me.” He could feel Harry barely holding back a gag as his fingers hit the back of the boy’s throat. Drawing back his hand completely, Voldemort asked, a bit meanly, “Have you ever had another man’s fingers in your mouth, pet?” Harry didn’t comprehend the question for a while, wet green eyes empty for almost a solid minute as he caught his breath, his cock weeping precum now and an angry purple-red. _I wonder if I can make him come without touching him, just with my voice_. Voldemort’s own cock jumped at that thought, and he had to wrench himself back to reality when he realized Harry was finally responding, biting his already-swollen lower lip and giving a shy shake of his head. 

“I’m the first man to do that to you?” He prompted Harry again, this time eliciting a nod. “Have you taken a cock before, baby?” The poor thing’s shoulders were probably sore by this point, holding his arms in the restraint position, and driven out of his mind with arousal as he was, the emphatic head shake was accompanied by a keening sob. Voldemort could hear his own heart skip a beat - he hadn’t dared to hope for this, a gorgeous virgin Savior entirely his to break. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he ground out, his voice rougher than he’d remembered. “I’ll help teach you.” The gratefulness in his pet’s gaze was a sweet balm to his thoughts, calming Voldemort down and reminding him of his plans. 

“You can let your arms down now.” The order was followed with a whimper and the rubbing of shoulders. “And here,” Voldemort proceeded to manhandle the boy off his lap entirely and between his legs, scooting to the edge of the couch himself in anticipation.

“You get to suck my cock, darling - aren’t you excited?” Harry’s lips were slightly parted around quick, panting breaths, but Voldemort took the desperate eye contact and hands moving up to grip his thighs for agreement. Almost absentmindedly, remembering his previous thought, he cast a bubble around Harry’s cock and balls preventing anything from coming in contact with them, even accidentally. 

Voldemort shifted his robes out of the way and undid the placket of his trousers, letting his penis out of its confinement. He could see Harry’s breathing pick up as his eyes zoned in on it, and he grinned. “That’s going into you, yes. Now open up.” Trembling lips fell open slowly, and Voldemort took his cock in hand and fed the head into those sinfully warm lips. “Just the head for now, dear, lick all the way around it.” His cock slipped out of Harry’s mouth, dripping saliva on the floor. “That’s okay,” he reassured at Harry’s apologetic glance up, “suck it back in and keep licking, it makes it go in easier.” Inch by inch, Voldemort’s cock sunk deeper into his boy’s mouth, and the pleasure zinged up his spine. 

Halfway in, Voldemort sunk his hand into the now-sweaty hair at the back of Harry’s head and tugged Harry off his cock - the inadvertent dragging of Harry’s tongue against the underside drew a groan from Voldemort. He then pushed the young man’s head forward again, setting a steady pace and pausing slightly at the deepest point before retreating. The incremental engulfing of his cock in the silky mouth of Harry Potter felt divine. When he inevitably hit the back of Harry’s throat and triggered his gag reflex, Voldemort had to pull back so only the head of his cock stayed in Harry’s mouth while the boy coughed. “You can do this, baby. Remember, breathe first, and swallow as I go in,” Voldemort prompted breathlessly. Disregarding the now pleading gaze aimed up at him, the older man proceeded to deliberately fuck his darling boy’s throat, working through the intermittent spasms, until he reached the point where he could put off his climax no longer. Voldemort pulled back again so his head lay on the flat of Harry’s tongue, gave in to the overwhelming pleasure, and savored his first orgasm of the night. 

When he came back to his senses somewhat, Voldemort glanced down and actually audibly gasped. The sight of Harry Potter - his green eyes red-rimmed from tears, Lord Voldemort’s cum dripping from his lips and down his chin - sitting docilely at his feet, was a sublime treat. Voldemort’s cock, so recently emptied, sprang back in interest. 

He bent down and wiped away the creamy substance from Harry’s cheek and chin, then offered the coated fingers to Harry, who sweetly sucked them clean. 

“Oh, my _dear_ , you were so good.” Voldemort breathed. “Let’s continue this, shall we?”


	7. in transition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: ["choke" - bones uk](https://open.spotify.com/track/10vqO3YRMpg52JxJNluonM)

Voldemort took a moment to clearly fix the memory of this moment in his head. His breathing was calming down and aftershocks of pleasure were still pulsing through him at irregular intervals as he still perched at the edge of the couch. Kneeling between his legs was the fucking _Boy-Who-Lived_ \- indeed, fucking with and just fucking the Boy-Who-Lived was the entire point of this operation, wasn’t it? Voldemort smiled.

The boy’s mouth hung open a bit, jaw most likely sore from working around Voldemort’s girth. His lips were puffy and smeared shiny with a combination of spit and cum, his eyes wide and surprised. Hands were still curled like claws into Voldemort’s trouser-clad thighs. 

Voldemort traced the fingers of both hands down the sides of the boy’s face, backwards along the jawline, then gently pressed circles into the sensitive hollows below the ears. “Easy there,” he cooed, as the boy was beginning to tremble. “I’ve got you.” He swiped a thumb tenderly along Harry’s cheekbone to catch the single tear that had fallen. “You did so _good_. Such a good boy for me,” he repeated. His pet turned its head to nuzzle a cheek against his hand, not breaking eye contact. A plaintive little whine rose up from its throat, a question. “Yes, really.” Voldemort’s voice dropped down low and dark. “And I’m going to take such good care of you.” 

Another shiver and a sigh from the trapped boy could mean either that some subconscious part of his brain recognized the threat that Lord Voldemort posed, or that some part of him was attracted to it. Or both.

Smoothing his hands unhurriedly along the sides of his boy’s neck, Voldemort then swept out, pausing for just a moment to cup the narrow shoulders before using a firm grip beneath the armpits to reposition them. Now Harry sat sideways on Voldemort’s lap, hands limp on his thighs. Voldemort took a second to tuck himself away and refasten his trousers then banish his over-robe to his closet, leaving him in a collared white shirt, charcoal waistcoat, and matching charcoal trousers. He gathered the naked boy closer, encouraging Harry to lean against his chest and tucking the messy head of hair underneath his chin. Voldemort hummed, rubbing a warm hand up and down Harry’s arm. “There now, isn’t that better?” A shy nod was his response, and Voldemort’s grin turned sharklike.

His other hand reached up to palm at the front of the boy’s throat, feeling a swallow move the muscles and cartilage there, before mapping out the delicate clavicles. A brush to a nipple brings a gasp. A thumb steadily rubbing circles around the other nipple elicits a hitched moan. A firm pinch? A keen, long and low, is pulled from the red, red mouth. 

Voldemort took his time coaxing delightful sounds from his pet like a well-tuned instrument. _What happens if I dig in my fingernail just there? Very interesting_. With one hand occupied in torturing brown nipples into sensitive tight nubs, his other hand slipped down to the slender waist to steady the squirming hips and pull the lithe frame further into the cradle of Voldemort’s body.

When he bored of limiting himself to one area of the boy’s body, Voldemort let his fingers idly roam over its torso, searching for sensitive spots. At this point, the boy was breathing hard, curling into himself and whimpering. Voldemort made an interesting discovery, however - the backs of his fingers brushed against a bubble of air when they wandered below the boy’s navel… Ah, he had forgotten about the spell he’d cast earlier to prevent the boy’s cock from rubbing against anything. This was not yet the time to remove it, but Voldemort was amused by the thought of how much the boy must want contact on that one specific body part. “Am I ignoring your cock, pretty thing? You’re clearly still aroused, you would probably come apart if I were to just run one finger up this cock from root to tip.” Harry shuddered beneath him. “That’s right. I’m not going to touch you yet, though, not until I feel like it. You’re just going to have to wait.”

What Voldemort did feel like doing, however, was moving this show along. 

He pressed his hand firmly against the boy’s lower belly and cast a spell to clean out the bowels and bladder - he could feel the heat of the spell radiate out from his hand before dissipating. The boy squirmed slightly in his hold, then settled down with a huff. “Does that feel strange, pet? Did it leave you feeling empty, a little hollow inside?” Voldemort murmured, bending down to nip at the shell of the boy’s ear. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you empty for long. I’ll fill you up, to bursting, and you’ll only want more. Soon you’ll crave being filled by me, being connected to me. You’ll never want to be parted from me. Isn’t that right, little one? You’ll love me so much you’ll always want me in you. _And I’ll give you exactly what you want._ ”

Leaning back revealed his pet’s eyes were glazed over, overwhelmed. That would do perfectly. 

Quickly coming to a decision, Voldemort hoisted his pet up and threw it over his shoulder. He had ritual-enhanced strength to spare, so he could support its full weight with a single arm banded over its thighs. The nipples would be rubbing painfully against the rougher fabric of his waistcoat, and the air bubble still jutted into Voldemort’s shoulder. A soft moan left the boy’s mouth, but no effort was made to escape the strong grip that held him as Voldemort turned to exit the room. 

Voldemort grinned. With his free hand, he grabbed one arsecheek and began to massage it. “You have such a good bottom, pet,” he noted cheerfully as he began to make his way towards the master bedroom. “It fits perfectly into my hand, see?” He gave it a squeeze to illustrate. “Your arse will feel so good bouncing on my thighs. But!” And he let go. “This is the real prize, pet.” Voldemort tapped the boy’s hole with one finger.

A confused, “Hmmm?” came from behind him. 

“Right here, sweetheart. Your little hole.” He tapped it again, and the boy whined faintly. “This hole is mine.” Tap. Whine. “I’m going to take it.” Tap. “I’m going to fill it.” Tap. “And you’re going to love every minute of it.” He rubbed a finger around the furled-tight rim, then did it a second time. “This is going to open right up for me, isn’t that right?” Tap. 

Voldemort strode through the door to the master bedroom and tossed the boy onto the overly-large bed, where he lay, shivering, twitching his hips up desperately for just a bit of friction on his neglected cock, tears in his eyes again, stretching out his arms to Voldemort for relief, for something, _anything..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, but let me know if you like this one! I'm very proud of this chapter.  
> Also, comment with ideas for the next chapter and other parts in the series - if there's enough demand I may start on Part 3!


	8. to unmake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: ["choke" - i don't know how but they found me](https://open.spotify.com/track/37mfTcSlX60JtAvAETytGs) (i know this one's also named choke but they're different songs and i carefully selected them to go with each chapter, trust me ;)

And Voldemort intended to give his boy everything - just not in the order Harry probably wanted.

“Easy, Harry.” He strode up to the bed and shifted Harry’s position by manhandling the boy into place so that he was centered on the bed. Nicely framed as a picture of thwarted lust. “You’re such a needy thing, aren’t you?”

-X- 

All Harry knew was that he needed something, actually. 

His mind was not his, his body was not his. Both were overwhelmed with sensation, with pleasure, with this all-encompassing  _ desire _ for the man. 

Nothing else mattered. 

He couldn’t get his mouth to form words, he couldn’t walk over there to take hold of the man, he had no way to communicate the aching hole in his chest pulling him towards the other.

So yes, Harry needed.

He was made of need. 

He was being unmade by it.

-X-

“I wonder,” Voldemort mused, as he reached up to undo the jet buttons of his waistcoat. “If I were to get onto the bed with you right now, what you would do. What you would still be capable of, really.” He shrugged the vest off his shoulders and onto the floor, beginning to pick at his shirt cuffs. “Would you end up just hugging me? Hungering for full-body skin contact?” He glanced up at his pet, who was letting out little subvocal whines with almost every breath, not able to coordinate its limbs enough to move closer. “Or would you need more?” 

“Would you manage to impale yourself on my cock, sweetheart?” Harry’s whole body shuddered, slick with sweat.

Voldemort shucked the shirt, vanished his trousers and pants, and prowled closer, naked and pinning Harry with his crimson gaze. “If I didn’t do anything to prepare you and just laid back, would you be able to fuck your little virgin hole open on just my cock?” The boy was barely breathing at this point, hypnotized and unable to break eye contact. “Would you need to split yourself open and bleed all over these nice clean sheets just to feel whole again?” Voldemort reached the bed, planting his hands on the foot and leaning in. “I think you would, pretty thing. But thankfully for you,” He rested a knee on the mattress, “I’m going to help you along a little bit.” 

Harry’s lithe body was wound so tightly that Voldemort wouldn’t have to do much.

“Pet.” Voldemort rumbled, climbing up the bed to loom between the boy’s legs. “You’re going to come for me.” 

He canceled the spell insulating Harry’s cock, bent down, and blew a single breath over the flushed head.

Harry  _ came apart. _

His body seized, back contorting into an unnatural arch as a broken, gasping wail was ripped from his throat. Ropes of cum criss-crossed his chest, some even reaching his chin. The pleasure was so intense that Harry’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped down from the arch, passed out. 

Voldemort’s grin was wide and predatory. He could feel the bond shimmering into place in the back of his mind, and if he looked out of the corners of his eyes he could see almost-invisible sparks jumping over Harry’s skin. 

He lowered his face to press a gentle kiss to Harry’s cock, which was now twitching with aftershocks. “That’s it, baby. You can rest for a bit, I’ll take good care of you.” He stroked a possessive hand up the boy’s leg, from his slim ankle to the inside of his knee, which he then turned to kiss as well. 

“After all, I always take care of what is mine.”

Voldemort took a hold of his pet’s other calf and spread Harry’s legs apart as far as they could go in his limp state, setting them down with his knees bent and feet flat on the bed. The older man then summoned a pillow with a gesture of his hand and grabbed Harry’s butt with the other, propping up the narrow hips and leaving himself with an excellent view of everything between Harry’s legs. The cock lay soft and quiescent and sticky in the crease of Harry’s thigh, the fuzzy balls in their sack beneath, and below both of them lay Harry’s tight arsehole.

Before he forgot, Voldemort vanished the sweat and come from Harry’s skin, leaving it soft and clean. He then, however, coated the fingers of his right hand with lube, rubbing them together to warm it up. His eyes never left his pet’s hole as his pointer finger came up to brush against it, just swiping back and forth to start. Back and forth. Up and down. Harry didn’t so much as move, still unconscious. 

Voldemort tapped at the furled entrance once, twice, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, before pressing his finger inwards. The tight heat enveloped his finger as he kept pushing to the second knuckle in that first stroke. Voldemort’s heart rate picked up - there was something uniquely satisfying about taking as intimate an act as this without Harry’s knowledge. How far would he be able to go? Would Harry wake up just as his first finger pulled out, wondering why he felt empty down below? Or would Voldemort have two fingers already hooked in his arse, spreading and stimulating him so Harry would be crying out before his eyes even opened? 

Voldemort drew his finger out slightly - his eyes gleamed as he gave it a vicious twist and punched it into Harry’s body to its base. The hole throbbed, not having been given a chance to accommodate the stretch. Voldemort didn’t particularly care, thrusting in several more times before fitting the tip of a second finger to his pet’s hole and forcing it in beside the first. Stroking along his boy’s inner walls, he rotated his fingers to spread the lube evenly. The rim stretched thin around pale fingers as they began to scissor outwards. Voldemort spread his fingers as wide as he could, intently observing Harry’s twitching red insides, but even at that, there was still no sign of protest from the still body above him.

Voldemort shrugged mentally and pulled out his hand with a satisfying pop, adding more lube.  _ Now to find the prostate. Maybe that’ll wake him up. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think?  
> I’m back with the somnophilia - apparently this Voldemort is super into it. Who am I to deny him? :)


	9. pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter: ["sweet dreams (are made of this)" - emily browning](https://open.spotify.com/track/79uwnnD5nSEUukbg4MJlGk?si=IZkmhbkaQk2FEcmzF2xUrw)

Voldemort paused, his right hand glistening, to sweep his gaze out over the whole picture before him. The Boy-Who-Lived lay sprawled out across silk sheets, tanned limbs loose. His head was turned a little to the side, and while his eyes stayed closed, his bruised lips had parted, showing a glimpse of the pink, wet tongue. Pebbled, dusky nipples were set above a vulnerable, almost concave belly, his cock and balls lay limp, and the entrance below them twitched slightly, trying and failing to close. His legs were splayed, and between them knelt his greatest enemy, malicious and triumphant.

“And the lamb lay down with the lion,” Voldemort quipped. 

He raked his gaze once again over the delectable view. There was just so much smooth, unmarked skin in front of him - he wanted to lean in and _bite._

So he did.

He bent down and licked a broad stripe up the thin skin of the inner thigh, then set his teeth and bit. Sucking and worrying and lipping at the spot he’d chosen until a mark was inevitable - he was certain the boy would bruise prettily - he pulled back slightly. Voldemort finally licked over the bite again and blew on it to see goosebumps form.

The Dark Lord then slipped two fingers back into his pet’s ass, immediately crooking them upwards to find the sensitive bundle of nerves… And there. He could feel the spasm around his hand more than he could see it. “That’s your prostate, pet,” he remarked conversationally, then prodded the spot again, watching the cock jerk and begin to fill again. “Doesn’t it feel good?” 

Harry seemed to agree, a little hum rising from the back of his throat.

Voldemort’s lips quirked up on one side. “Ah, there you are. Nice of you to join me.” He twisted his fingers, then tested the stretch of the hole around them. “I think you can fit three already, darling, don’t you?” 

He cruelly jabbed fingernails into the boy’s prostate, drawing a pained “ _Uhhhh_ ” from Harry’s throat. 

“That’s what I thought too.” The older man did add more lube to his fingers - let no one say he didn’t take good care of his things - before slowly, inexorably forcing them past the now-dark pink rim. Harry’s shoulders shifted and his forehead wrinkled cutely as he tried to comprehend what was going on, or at least that’s what Voldemort assumed. Maybe it was just the pain. “I hope you’ll wake up ready to go, sweet thing, because we’re almost done with the prep at this point.” His voice was honey-smooth, deep and dripping with promises. “I’m carving out a hole inside you that will only be able to be filled by my cock.” 

Voldemort had just gotten his fingers in up to the second knuckle as Harry squinted down at him. “Well, hello.”

His pet’s voice was hoarse and wavering, unsure. “Who - wha… What’s going on?” 

“What’s going on is that I am stretching this soft hole so that I can slide my cock inside.” He pulled his fingers out slightly before scissoring them, savoring the resultant wince. “What is going on,” Voldemort shoved his hand inwards, “is that I am going to fit you like a glove over my hard dick and use you to get off like the toy you are.” The boy looked like he was about to protest, getting his hands under him. The Dark Lord decided to head that off early. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to take care of you as well.” Pressing against the boy’s prostate again elicited a startled moan and a collapse of weakened limbs. “You like me playing with your pleasure button? We’re making so many discoveries today, I hope you’re noting these down.” Sightless green eyes stared at the ceiling, so Voldemort highly doubted that.

He withdrew his fingers and wordlessly cleaned them, then prowled upwards, crawling over the boy’s body to his head. Tracing the boy’s cheek brought those expressive eyes back into focus. “Harry, dear, aren’t you enjoying this?” Voldemort faux-pouted. “I thought we were having a great time together!” Not leaving his pet any time to respond, he pecked its freckled nose. A giggle rose involuntarily. “That’s more like it.” The older man smiled down at his boy and proceeded to kiss him breathless, sweeping in with his tongue and devouring the sweet mouth below him. 

When he paused for a breath, the flush was back on Harry’s face and the boy was completely focused on him. _As he should be._ Voldemort casually placed his hand over his pet’s throat and drove the point home further. “You love me, don’t you?”

Harry nodded fervently.

“Good.” He was careful not to put any pressure on the boy’s throat. Yet.

“Because I’m going to fuck you now.”


End file.
